Mad As A Hatter
by Alexsangirl
Summary: Jervis Tetch has been confined in Arkham Asslymum for too long, and it has gotten to him. When he meets Illia, a rather unorthadox therapist, things become less horrible to bare.
1. Nobody's Home

Mad As A Hatter Chapter One: "Nobody's Home"

_Well I couldn't tell you why he felt that way,  
He felt it everyday  
And I couldn't help him,  
I just watched him make the same mistakes again_

What's wrong, what's wrong now?  
Too many, too many problems  
Don't know where he belongs, where he belongs  
He wants to go home, but nobody's home  
That's where he lies, broken inside  
With no place to go, no place to go, to dry is eyes  
Broken inside

Open your eyes and look outside, find the reasons why  
You've been rejected, and now you can't find what you left behind  
Be strong, be strong now  
Too many, too many problems  
Don't know where he belongs, where he belongs  
He wants to go home, but nobody's home  
That's where he lies, broken inside  
With no place to go, no place to go, to dry his eyes  
Broken inside

His feelings he hides  
His dreams he can't find  
He's losing his mind  
He's fallen behind  
He can't find his place  
He's losing his faith  
He's falling from grace  
He's all over the place  
Yeah (yeah)

He wants to go home, but nobody's home  
That's where he lies, broken inside  
With no place to go, no place to go, to dry his eyes  
Broken inside

He's lost inside, lost inside oh oh  
He's lost inside, lost inside oh oh  
Ohhh...  


Arkham Asylum was the only thing that barely resembled home to Jervis Tetch. He had never felt in place all his life and the house he lived in was no real 'home'. How could a place where his mother hardly acknowledged him, a father who constantly brought him down, and siblings who were ashamed of him be considered a home?

They always say home is where the heart is. Jervis felt he lost his heart when Alice showed him her ring.

Arkham wasn't a place anyone would call a home either, but it was the closest thing Tetch ever had. Sure, his fellow rogues didn't treat him any better, but at least he was with a crowed that hated Batman as much as he did.

Jervis sighed, laying his head back on his pillow, staring at the ceiling. He wished his room had a clock. There was no way to tell what time it was. "Ooohh…if only they knew Time as well as I do…" he muttered, shutting his eyes, feeling a few tears escape as he thought of the past. "Perhaps Time can wipe out my thoughts…my memories…I would like that," he said to himself, his strawberry blond bangs dangling over his face.

"Hey! Freak! Get up!" bellowed one of the guards as the door slid open. Jervis opened his eyes tiredly and sat up, blinking,

"Well, aren't you rude," he spoke finally, narrowing dark blue eyes, though he softened them when he realized it wasn't Charles. The one guard he truly loathed.

"You better behave yourself," the man sneered. It was obvious he hated this job, but it was the only one he could get apparently. He didn't look like he could be anything sophisticated in Jervis' thoughts.

"Oh, dear, what have I done this time?" Tetch asked innocently, tilting his head. His bangs followed after, covering half of his face, giving him a wilder look that put the guard on edge once the smaller man started giggling madly.

"You have someone to see you!" he snapped, trying to brush the sudden chill off, "so don't cause her any trouble or I'll have to beat your face in!"

Jervis sat up straight, eyes wide with curiosity, "Some one has come to see me? And is a /she/?" He had the sudden revelation that it could possibly be Alice, coming back to him to apologize for the horrible thing she did by marrying that twit!

The guard grinned, knowing that the little freak would get his hopes up, he didn't tell him who this woman really was. "So, yeah, come on." He gave Jervis a harsh tug out of the cell, keeping his ward in front of him as he ushered him down to an obscure room. The guard kicked the door just slightly with his foot, letting it idly swing open as he forced Jervis inside and closed it.

Behind the surface of a black marble desk sat the alleged "visitor", the "she" that the guard had spoken of. A pair of high-heeled boots rested atop the glossy desk top, hand-crafted from the finest of black leather, their lace-up structures coming halfway up her calf muscles. Where her boots ended, a pair of black, form-fitting pants took over, running smoothly up her leanly-muscled legs to her hips, where there rested a solid black belt made of leather as well, secured with a gleaming silver latch crafted in the image of a dragon.

Her shirt was tucked into her belt, the shirt like her pants, black and formfitting, and where the shirt cut low on her chest, there was a silver pendant around her pale, long neck in the same dragon image as her belt buckle. Her face was finely angled and as pale as the rest of her, a pair of black eyes set demandingly in her face and accented by thick locks of white hair, no betrayal of her age. From her appearance, she looked to be the member of a syndicate, the holster of her belt holding two revolvers and several other objects and chemicals. She looked like no one to be trifled with, and yet her face was kinder than one would expect.

Jervis took the seat in front of the desk and sighed, knowing this was indeed not Alice. You'd think after a few years in this place he would have given up that she'd ever come to visit. "Hello," he said sadly, folding his hands on his lap, "Who are you and why would you want to speak with me?"

The white-haired young woman readjusted the glasses up onto her nose, sliding the thin frames up further with a single finger. "My name is Illia Saint," she replied in measured, solemn speech, "I am a therapist from the neighboring city who has decided to take on your case." She sat up straight and took her feet from the top of the desk, sliding a file from the side of the desk to in front of her. "Jervis Tetch, correct?"

He didn't answer right away and studied her some more, a thin eyebrow raised under his messy bangs, "You don't /look/ like a therapist to me. But what do I know? I'm not in my right mind anymore," he muttered, shrugging, "Yes, I was once Jervis Tetch."

Illia leaned forward onto the desk, resting her elbows on the surface and putting her chin down into the palm of one hand. "I might not look like a therapist, but looks can be misleading. Not always, though." She turned a few pages into the file. "The next few days I'll be coming in to review your case. Nothing strenuous on your part."

"Should I feel honored that you picked me out of all of the rogues?" Jervis asked, an amused smirk on his face, "I'm not the most interesting case in the group," he added, leaning forward on his seat slightly, "Is there a particular reason your are interested in my case?"

Illia's face gathered the slightest hint of a cryptic smile as she leaned in closer just long enough to speak, "You'll find out in time, Mr. Tetch." She leaned back and leafed though silently. "Can you cleanly state to me the reason for your institutionalization?"

Jervis shrugged and sat back, drumming his fingers on his lap, "Well, to me I didn't do anything wrong or what could be considered isnane. Sure, I robbed a few places...so what? Mind controled a few people..." The Mad Hatter frowned at the memmory, narrowing his eyes. "I had no say in my trial, really, and I knew nothing about it in all honesty. So for the true reasons why I'm here? The Batman."

"That's what I wanted to hear. Keep that in mind," Illia replied, jotting down a few notes, best left unseen to anyone but her. "Clearly state your age, please."

"Shouldn't that already be in your files?" Jervis asked, tilting his head, but then sighed. "I'm thirty-seven," the patient answered plaintively.

"This is a test I've developed," Illia replied, "It's to be sure of the condition of the patient's sanity. So far, you're doing far better than most people I've done this with. Former location?"

"High Street," Jervis answered with boredom, "Gotham City of course. I also used to work at Wayne Industries." He leaned back on his chair, "Is that enough info for you, miss?"

"One more thing..." Illia pondered, picking up her pen and checking a few things on a list. "You need to answer a riddle."

"Oh? I love riddles!" Jervis perked up, a large grin on his face. His slightly large set of buck teeth happened to stick out.

The therapist grinned slightly and tapped her chin with the pen. "Alright. You've been placed into a bathroom. In the corner, there is a bathtub filled with water. You have been given a teacup, a teaspoon, and a bucket. How will you empty the tub?"

"By pulling the plug of course," Jervis answered, crossing his arms and lifting his eyebrows together with interest, "Correct?" Although it was hard to tell in the faint lighting of the room, Jervis had scratches adorning his face and arms, though it was hard to see the scratches and scars under his sleeves.

One last checkmark in place on her paper, Illia nodded her confirmation. "Testing complete." She slid the file into her briefcase and locked it, buzzing in for the guard to come. "Get plenty of sleep. We commence tomorrow."

"Sleep happens to be a problem on my part, but as you wish, Miss Illia."

Jervis was pulled up out of his seat before he could get up himself and was dragged by not exactly the same guard. It was Charles. The man grinned down at the rogue which caused Jervis to flinch and go slightly pale before the door was swung closed.

Illia watched with an invisible degree of concern as Charles "ushered" her client out, and the more she sat there and thought of it, the closer she came to speaking out loud. "So they still haven't gotten rid of him..." She muttered furiously and stood up, gathering her files into her briefcase and slamming it closed before locking it and walking out of the room.

But she wasn't going to leave yet.

Instead, she walked with quickened gait down to the guards' lounge to wait for Charles. She had several bones to pick with him and a small tidbit of news.


	2. Ask the Lonely

Chapter Two: "Ask The Lonely"

You've been picked and it's over  
What's the chip on your shoulder?  
Out side were solid rainbows  
Inside is where the heart grows

Picking up the pieces  
Something more to believe in  
As you search the embers  
Think what you've had, remember

Hang on, don't you let go now  
You know, with every Heartbeat, we love  
Nothing comes easy  
Hang on, ask the lonely

You've got some fascination  
With your high expectations  
This love is your obsession  
Your heart, your past possession

Let down your defenses  
Won't be up to the one who cares  
As you search the embers  
Think what you've had, remember

Hang on, don't you let go now  
You know, with every heartbeat, we love  
Nothing comes easy  
Hang on, ask the lonely

When you're feeling love's unfair  
You just ask the lonely  
When you're lost in deep despair  
You just ask the lonely

Ask the lonely

When you're down in deep despair  
When you're down in deep despair  
Ask the lonely  
Lonely

Charles had left Tetch's room about half an hour later, a smug grin on his face as he combed back his dark hair with his hands. Deep green eyes narrowed, but the grin stayed as he saw Illia Saint not looking as smug and happy as he was. Apparently she had been waiting for him since he did away with Jervis.

"Hey, baby, what's up?" he winked, casting his charm. "Been waitin' for dear 'ol Charles?"

"In fact I have..." Illia replied sourly and removed her glasses and hung them out of her pocket, holding up a set of papers. "These papers represent your contract of pay to work here at this institution, correct?" There was a daring look on her face.

"Yeah, what's this all about?" Charles raised an eyebrow and crossed his arms, "You got a problem, or somethin'?"

"As of now...your days of sodomizing the other patients..." Illia's hands gripped the edges and ripped the pages into shreds, the pieces landing neatly into a trashcan in front of her feet. "Are through. Your contract is null and void, and the police are coming. We've been through this. I told you to stop. When you don't listen to Illia Saint..." She whispered into his ear, her voice seething with hate, "Bad things happen."

"Hey! You can't do this! You have no /proof, woman." Charles hissed, his demeanor changing as he snarled back, ready to grab at her and attack.

"Check the cameras, Charles," Illia hissed back, quickly evading him by stepping away. "And if you lay one hand on me, that's one more account in court you'll have to recall. I'm warning you."

Charles cursed and started running off, "I'll get you for this, you nosy witch!" he shouted, rushing down the hall.

"Sticks and stones, Charles..." Illia muttered under her breath, turning around to leave as she muttered under her breath again, "Sticks and stones."

Jervis was recently strapped into his straightjacket since the nurses had requested he needed sleep now, along with his therapist. He wasn't lying when he had told Illia he had sleeping trouble. The scratches that decorated most of his body was caused by himself when he had attacks in his dreams. He would constantly claw at himself in aggravation and wouldn't wake up even when he was bleeding. So therefore they began putting him in a straightjacket so to not harm himself anymore.

Tetch, though, after Charles left after...a few events...the rogue was shaking and panicked sweat soaked his forehead as he leaned against the wall, shallow breaths escaping his mouth as he shut his eyes tightly. It was very hard to calm himself after what had happened just a short while ago and it took a while before he drifted off, sliding to the ground.

Illia's gait was a little more quickened than it had been the day before, her straight white locks bouncing in time with her steps as she quickly made her way into Arkham Asylum with her briefcase in hand. There was a serious look in her black eyes, one of her pale hands reaching up to tuck away a few tresses that disturbed her sight. Today was session two- the seconds step of what she planned for Jervis' recovery.

Turning the corner, she swung into her office and closed the door, tossing her briefcase into the corner and slouching down into her chair. Her fingers fiddled with a flask that hung from her belt, and taking it off, she unscrewed the cap and took two large gulps of the liquid inside. Her cheeks went red, and she took a huge breath of air. "Wow...stronger than I remember..." Illia observed, putting the silver container down onto the desk and sitting up before picking up the telephone and pressing the intercom button. "Please send in Mr. Tetch..." came her collected voice. "Quickly now, I haven't got a lot of time to waste today."

The person on the other line muttered a reply and sent someone off to fetch Tetch who didn't look all too great. A large bruise had shown itself on his right cheek which was obviously left over by Charles the other day. Lack of sleep was eminent, but the Mad Hatter didn't seemed to be bothered by his appearance, considering he never really got a chance to look at himself lately for a long time.

Jervis was taken out of his straightjacket and was carelessly shoved out of his room and forced down the hall with his arms held back by one of the guards. He was soon left in Illia's office, the guard slamming the door as he left. Jervis only sighed and took a seat, rubbing his cheek and mumbling nonsense to himself quietly.

Illia's sharp black eyes whipped up at the sound of his figure seating itself before her desk, her glasses low on her nose from keeping her head bowed over her reading material. Her eyes had caught sight of the demeaning blemish on his cheek, and she reacted stiffly, as if personally begrudged for it. She knew who had done it, too. Instead of speaking right away, though, she made a few quick notes in her files and closed the file, placing it face-down on her desk and leaning in on her elbows. It was a habit she had, one that she took up when a conversation was about to take an intense turn.

"I take it your night went rather roughly. Thus my first question for today is whether or not you'd like a cloth to go around the small bag of ice." Her middle finger pressed leisurely down on another button, one meant to summon a guard. "The ice, however, is not an option."

Jervis looked up when he heard the woman begin to speak and sighed, "A cloth would be fine," he smiled weakly, "Thank you." He didn't comment about what happened last night and stayed quiet afterwards, looking around.

A guard walked into the room after Illia pressed the button, "yes, ma'am, something wrong?" He made a glance at Jervis, as if expecting the little man did something horribly wrong.

Jervis looked back at him and waved, smiling thinly, "Hello."

"Not necessarily wrong, per say, but I do have need to request of you some ice wrapped in tin foil, as well as a thick dish towel," Illia replied with a slight smile of her own, appearing as genial as one could appear at this time in the morning. She tucked her black pen behind her ear and folded her hands on the desk. "That is, if you don't mind."

The guard only nodded and grumbled as he left, his footsteps heard down the hall.

Jervis looked back at Illia and blinked, "So what are we going to do today?" he asked as if nothing had happened at all last night. Perhaps it was his way of coping, but who knew the real thoughts in his mind? He brushed his bangs out of his face and crossed his legs as he sat down and pushed the seat back to a tilt.

"Today..." said Illia muffled as she ducked behind her desk to open her briefcase, coming back up with another paper in her hand, "We do the assessment test." Her fingers trailed to her temple, where she found the end of the pen and tugged it from behind her ear. "A little more question-asking, really. More or less your opinion of things." She took the cap off of the pen and relocated it to the tail-end of the writing utensil. "Let's begin now, shall we?" Her finger trailed to the first question. "Answer these questions on a scale of one to ten, one being the most degraded, ten being the most commendable. Easy enough?"

"Yes, quite easy. Ask away," Jervis answered, waving his hand. He still was a little wary of Illia. Well, after everything that happened him in the past few years, he learned to be wary of everyone.

Illia gave a conformational nod before focusing back on her paper. "Alright. First item on the paper: how would you rate your stay at Arkham Asylum thus far? Answer honestly." Her pen was poised over the paper, ready to circle the corresponding number.

"Hmmm..." Jervis pondered this for a moment, rubbing his chin, "Well...I'd say a two...it could be worse."

At that moment the guard walked in, placing the ice and other things Illia requested on her desk and left without a word.

"In my opinion...this place could use a LOT of work," Tetch muttered, glaring at the door where the guard had left again.

"That's a given. This place has been in need of evoked changes for decades now," responded the therapist as she made the appropriate markings on her paper before dropping the pen and pulling the supplies closer to her. "Next question..." she trailed off as she began her creation of a makeshift compress, wrapping the ice in the foil as she spoke, "How would you rate the guard service around here?"

"You said only one through ten, true? If not, I'd say a zero. Not that I expected good treatment, but you can always hope," Jervis grumbled, crossing his arms as he continued to lean back in his chair.

Illia wrapped her concoction of ice and foil into the dish towel and handed it over to Jervis quickly, re-gripping her pen to add the "zero" to the scale and circle it. "Any particular one you'd like to complain about while I'm doing the assessment?" she asked without looking up, her dark eyes again focused on the thin piece of dead tree that she was using to record the information she was taking in.

Jervis leaned over and took the ice pack, thanking her and placing it against his swollen cheek, "Well, I suppose one in particular. His name is Charles," he said while shrugging, "I'm sure he's not the only guard around here that gets bad comments, though. And no one really cares about the opinions of the asylum's wards."

Illia had picked up her flask in her opposing hand, just halfway through a sip when she heard the name "Charles", whereas she stopped mid-drink, put down her silver container with a clank and quickly gulped down the odd-smelling liquid already in her mouth. "Oh, you won't have to worry about Charles anymore..." She crossed her legs professionally and wrote down what he said as she commented, "They found him dead in an alleyway this morning."

"Oh, dear," Jervis said, his eyes wide, "What happened?"

"The sodomizer was apparently sodomized..." Illia replied both calmly and extremely straightforwardly as she picked up her flask and twisted the cap back onto it, giving it a couple of violent shakes while commenting, "And after all of the damage was done, he was drugged to death." She removed the cap gingerly and brought the flask to her lips, grimacing as the substance tried to burn at the inside of her mouth. "Mmm..." The noise was one of slight pain. "So says the medical examiner, anyways."

"Hmmm," Jervis raised an eyebrow and didn't seem all that surprised, "Can't say he didn't deserve the way he went," he spoke as he kept the icepack against his face, "May I make a request?"

"Sure," Illia choked on her drink again, deciding it best to not try to drink anymore of it for now. "What can I do for you?"

Jervis watched her drink whatever she happened to be drinking and looked curiously at her, "Well, I was hoping if I could possibly have some tea. It's been a long time and-what exactly is in that?" he asked as he pointed to her flask.

"Oh, this?" the therapist held up the flask. "It's my own mix of stuff." The edge of her tongue came out of the side of her mouth as she went into thought. "It's got sake, whiskey, rum, beer, white wine, red wine, light ale, dark ale, Windex, and Clorox." She cleared her throat. "As for that tea..." Her finger found the intercom button again. "I can do that." She pushed down on it.

"WHAT?" answered a bitter reply. It was the same person Illia had called the last two times, and the person didn't sound very happy. "I have other things to do right now, could you wait one second?!"

Jervis opened his mouth to comment on her incredibly odd drink and stopped, wondering how the woman would take the rudeness of the speaker box.

Illia frowned at the box for a moment, then switched it off and stood up. "Pardon me for a moment, if you would." She smiled sweetly and walked to the door, opening it, and disappearing out of it before closing it behind her. She stood for a moment to gather her sense of direction before her steps led her straightaway to the office where the intercom attendant was located, and as an accent to her underlying rage, her gait had picked up speed until she found herelf outside of the door of the office in less than fifteen seconds. She stood there for a moment before clearing her throat, opening the door without knocking and walking in, her expression so calm that she almost looked cross.

"I need to speak with you."

The secretary looked up and narrowed her already squinty eyes at Illia, "Do you mind? I'm VERY busy," she snapped, typing on her computer and no longer acknowledged the therapist's presence.

Meanwhile Jervis just began pacing the room, taking the ice off and wondering if a plan of escape would be a good idea. Thoughts were swarming in his brain and he turned around to face the door, but stopped when a very large grin appeared in front of the doorknob...

Waiting a few seconds for her presence to take effect, Illia suddenly lept forward and grabbed the collar of the secretary's shirt, jerking her up out of her chair. Her face was within inches of hers. "Now listen, you arrogant, pompous PRICK. I have had it up to my eyeballs with you and your bad attitude over the past couple of days, and I am no going to take it anymore. Oh sure..." Illia flailed a free hand as she spoke, "Busy, busy, busy... ALWAYS busy! Too busy to provide a simple service because you're already too damn busy playing a fucking game of SOLITAIRE!" She released the secretary and continued to scowl. "Now I'm gonna go back to that room, and I'm going to buzz you again. AND YOU'RE GOING TO ANSWER LIKE A CIVILIZED HUMAN BEING!" On that final note, she turned around and stormed out of the room, slamming the door behind her.

The secretary stared at the door after Illia left and shakily sat back down and fixed her suit and took a deep breath, waiting for her to be buzzed again.

While Illia was on her way up, the grin in front of Jervis began to form a head around it, and eyes. Not much longer an entire form appeared floating on air. It was a cat. A very unique cat. It was very skinny and its fur was matted and sticking out in every which way as if it was shaved by a very ecstatic kid.

"Oh, you can't leave yet," whispered the cat with the very large grin. Its tail flicked and it placed itself on the ground, purring as it went around Jervis' feet and suddenly vanished again when the door opened. Jervis had no time to react or speak to the odd cat and smiled sheepishly at Illia and moved out of her way.

Illia closed the door behind her as soon as she had made it back into the room, taking a deep breath through her nose. She showed no signs of having just threatened anyone, and it was a good thing, too. It was quite the poor image to be placed on a therapist. Leisurely, she crossed the room and sat back down. "Forgive me. Urgent business called." She pushed the button. "Now then...let's see about that tea..."


	3. Tonight I Wanna Cry

Mad as a Hatter – Chapter Three: Tonight I Wanna Cry

Alone in this house again tonight  
I got the TV on, the sound turned down and a bottle of wine  
There's pictures of you and I on the walls around me  
The way that it was and could have been surrounds me  
I'll never get over you walkin' away

I've never been the kind to ever let my feelings show  
And I thought that bein' strong meant never losin' your self-control  
But I'm just drunk enough to let go of my pain  
To hell with my pride, let it fall like rain  
From my eyes  
Tonight I wanna cry

Would it help if I turned a sad song on  
"All By Myself" would sure hit me hard now that you're gone  
Or maybe unfold some old yellow lost love letters  
It's gonna hurt bad before it gets better  
But I'll never get over you by hidin' this way

I've never been the kind to ever let my feelings show  
And I thought that bein' strong meant never losin' your self-control  
But I'm just drunk enough to let go of my pain  
To hell with my pride, let it fall like rain  
From my eyes  
Tonight I wanna cry

I've never been the kind to ever let my feelings show  
And I thought that bein' strong meant never losin' your self-control  
But I'm just drunk enough to let go of my pain  
To hell with my pride, let it fall like rain  
From my eyes  
Tonight I wanna cry

--

For the most part, Illia's second session with Jervis Tetch went over quite well, despite the rocky start that it had initially experienced when she had commenced that morning. Not that it mattered, though. Illia dealt with difficult people several times a day. The secretary needn't feel special about the trouble she had caused the therapist.

She more than likely didn't anyways.

It was a long walk home for her, her lithe figure exiting the building in as swift a manner as it had shown up that morning, her slightly-heeled boots clapping against the pavement as she made her way down the sidewalk. In one hand was the black briefcase that she had been carrying for the past two days, swinging at her side freely as her arm did in her gait. In the other, however, was gripped flask that she had been drinking from on and off throughout the day, perched at her lips again as she took a fast swig of the contents within to finish off her supply. She grimaced as she did so, the burn starting to get to her again.

"It's just a reminder," she told herself solemnly as she passed through an empty street, taking a moment to stop under the aura of a street lamp and reattach the silver container to her belt, "I'll not make this stuff quite as strong next time...maybe not quite as much whiskey." She was obviously trying to cheer herself up, and by the sour look on her face, it didn't seem to be working. In truth, had she been someone else, she wouldn't have picked herself a solace, let alone a friend. Not that she was a bad person. No, she just didn't like herself that much.

Her freed hand jammed down into the pocket of her long trench coat, feeling around the inside of the lining for a solemn quarter, and upon finding one, she inserted it gingerly into a small machine designed to dispense newspapers, opened the gate, and took one. "Gotham City Tribune" was boldly typed in a large typewriter-esque font across the top of the paper, a custom that had been ongoing in the press' publications for years. Personally, she was ready for change, sick of seeing the same thing over and over again. And today was no different. As always, there was always some news piece on the front page about either Batman or his alter ego, Bruce Wayne.

"Top Story…" Illia mumbled as she leaned back against the streetlamp, putting her briefcase down between her feet securely as she opened up the paper to read the full title, "Batman Does It Again." She sniffed raucously out of disrespect as she began delving into the article, finding herself only digging deeper and deeper under her own skin as she read about his "daring rescue of a young child in a predator situation" and "sparing twenty victims from the fate of death in the fiery grasp of a blazing inferno that had started in a chemical plant" – both rescues had apparently taken place in less than five minutes.

On the paper, inserted into the article, there was a finely placed shot of "Batman" posing heroically, the small girl perched happily on his shoulders, her tiny fists thrust into the air in victory. "Batman can do anything! He's my hero!" Illia could just hear her say, in total disgust for what she was watching and reading. Truth be told, the she would have died twice just to have the chance to approach the little snot and tell her, "Don't idolize him, Susanna. He's not what you think."

Her final bout of disgust took place when she finally crumpled the entire paper altogether, too angry to read anything else inside of it as she threw it into a nearby wastebasket, but she began to regret her choice to do so when raindrops began to come down, lightly, then heavily in succession. Despite the fact, though, that she was becoming increasingly soggy, she merely looked up, letting the rain fall down on her face as she walked forward a few steps from the light, her hair tuning to stringy wet strands rather quickly as she did so.

"Father…" she whispered to the empty air surrounding her, "I'm tired…and I want to come home…" She ducked her face down when the thunder began to roll, stooping down to pick up her sopping-wet briefcase. "But…I can't today." Her boots splashing lightly as she started away from the light, Illia sighed to herself as she made her up the road on foot, heading for Ivy Hill, where her black, gothic-style mansion stood proud against the stormy sky.

And she stood upon the stoop of it two hours later, shivering from the cold as she meddled with trying to find the right key. They all looked alike to her, though in reality, there were enough distinguishing difference for one to find the correct implement, if they were paying enough attention to what they were doing. She had this same trouble every night, and she had considered, on several occasions, eliminating the need for so many by destroying all but a few locks located on her property.

A simple click in the latch let her know that after fourteen keys, she had finally gotten it right, the door sliding open as she turned the knob. It was well-oiled, thus it didn't creak when she pushed it ajar. She didn't go in right away, though. Instead, she turned to look out at the fog as the rain fell through it. The atmosphere she observed was a comfort to her in the emotional states she sometimes fond herself, but knowing that she needed to rest before a much larger project the next day, she tore herself from the scene and went inside the house.

There a scaly presence waited to meet her, a long, slender presences with a flickering forked tongue that barely licked against Illia's ankle as it began to wrap itself around her left leg and spiral up to her hip, slithering up her torso until it came to rest on her shoulders. It was a black mamba.

"Ah yes…" Illia spoke to the serpent as Beatrix Potter spoke to her rabbit. "Horatio." Her fingers barely stroked the top of the snake's head. "Always faithful in waiting for me. I'm sorry." The briefcase thumped down on the door as she dropped it, Illia squatting down to unlace and remove her boots, speaking all the while, "I've kept you up, haven't I?"

The snake flicked its tongue twice, making himself at home atop his mistress' shoulders as she kicked off her footwear and ventured further into the house. He seemed to be telling her, "Oh yes…I've been up waiting for you. But that's alright. There was a warm fire."

Illia chuckled. "Always silent and reserved." She removed her coat and hung it on a peg further down the hall. "Just what I like in a man…"

Hiss.

"Or snake." The white-haired woman stretched her arms out in front of her, groaning tiredly as she retired to her sitting room, a massive room that could have been two stories tall, had it a second floor. There were two luxurious arm chairs and a sofa, all three furniture pieces of the burgundy persuasion and arranged around a cherry-stained coffee table, upon which stood a lovely centerpiece of black roses and glossy green ivy arranged in a plain black pot. It was the chair closest to the fire that Illia's behind laid claims to, her entire body flopping down into it wearily as she leaned her head back and let out an exhausted breath.

Horatio just hissed and moved from Illia's shoulders, sensing his tired mistress' need for rest and slithering off towards his basket by the chair. He'd sleep until the morning and allow Illia to rest while she could, knowing that it was a rare occasion that she ever got the complete amount of rest needed to function without coffee.

"Goodnight, Horatio," the therapist whispered drowsily, her hand swiping under her closing black eyes and finally falling to her side as she lost consciousness. Tonight, she was too tired even to snore. Instead, she did the least typical thing that she was prone to do during sleep: mumble- and dream.

"Akota Matsumoto..." a non-visibly younger Illia mused over the file on her desk. "As known as: The Samurai. You seem to have made quite a name for yourself…"

"Please don't rub it in," replied the Japanese convict, keeping his hands folded in his lap and his head bowed. His expression was filled with dishonor on himself. "I know what I've done. I have no regrets."

In surprise, Illia looked up, almost confused at what he said until indicating that she was far from it. "I'm sorry. I don't mean to aggravate the wound further. It wasn't my intent." She made a quick note in his file before talking. "I'm just here to review your case for the records. I don't want you to be nervous around me. I'm not here to criticize you or your choices."

"I appreciate your efforts," Samurai sighed sadly, "But in what situation I find myself, I'm not sure they will do much good."

"Well…keep an open heart is all I ask," Illia replied, "I'm here to help you in what ways I can."

The black-haired man nodded, sighing again as he finally looked up at Illia, taken slightly by her appearance. "You have white hair…but you're not old." He tilted his head. "How…different."

"It's a birth defect," Illia told him with a small smile. "It's one of the few features about myself that I like."

"It's quite becoming," Samurai stated through a thin smile of his own. "But…if you please, can we please get on with whatever we're supposed to be doing?"

The therapist nodded. "Of course." She felt around for her pen and picked it up, turning a page in the file and scrawling out a date. "This is the first question…it is also…quite possibly the hardest."

"I'm sure I can handle it," Samurai droned grimly, Illia sighing in response to the depression emitted from him.

"If you insist," she trailed off, running her finger down the paper and finding the question again. "Tell me how you got here."

Several seconds of silence passed between the two of them, Samurai reaching up with one hand to scratch the back of his head, long black locks of hair bound at the back of his head with a white strip of cloth and making it difficult to relieve his scalp of an itch. He seemed to be pondering for quite a while, and almost looked unwilling to answer, but at last he did open his mouth, where followed a silent breath of discomfort.

"Two years ago I had a wife, Yoko," he began with a degree of solemn mourning, "I also had a five-year-old daughter, Yamiko…both whom I loved quite dearly." He let a puff of air out of his nose. "My wife…was the first to die. She had been kidnapped by some unknown fiend…tortured…killed…That damned Batman came too late. Some record for saving people…made himself look good ten minutes later when a bridge collapsed outside of town…I tried to kill the man who killed my wife, but they treated my wife's murderer as the victim and jailed me." He ran his fingers through his bangs, "I got out on bail, but they let him go entirely since I attacked him…it's so…screwed up…" Bitterness filled his voice, and he was forced to stop before his tears got the better of his eyes and escaped.

Illia nodded and made note of all that he said. "So you were never kept there, and neither was he…" Her pen scratched against the paper as she wrote, her voice sounding very much in alignment with his. "Please, go on when you've composed yourself."

Samurai nodded. "Now…about a month ago…Yamiko became ill. I took her to a local hospital and was told that she was in need of an organ transplant. Unfortunately, I was no match, and her mother's body had been too drugged to be a good cadaver for organs." He thought about this next part carefully, as though particularly begrudged about it. "The only donor in the city, I found, was the man who killed my beloved wife, and when I went to him for help, he wanted fifty-seven million dollars in cash for the organ." He stretched out his palms as he spoke. "Do I look that rich?"

Illia shook her head. "You look like a businessman."

"That I was," Samurai confirmed. "And with a heavy heart, I left to consider what to do. At this point, I would give anything to save Yamiko. So I…went and robbed a bank. Guess who showed up…" His voice halted to allow for Illia's imagination to run rampant.

"Batman."

"Bingo. I knew he would come, though, for something that trivial. So I hid the money, was put in jail again, where I paid my bail and was turned out to the streets again. I went back for the money, but when I showed up at that man's doorstep with it, he took the money, laughed at me, and refused me the organ." Samurai's hands were clenching dreadfully. "My daughter died the next week. Out of rage, I tracked down to this fellow's house, I broke into his house, and I tried to kill him. But Batman showed up again before I could kill him, and here I am."

For a moment, Illia was very quiet, Samurai intently watching her make her notes on the paper. This was a solemn moment of truth for the both of them, her final decision as to whether or not she could help him. He was very quiet for her, though, so that she could think clearly. His fate rested solely in her hands now…

"Matsumoto-san…" she said finally after five minutes, passing her pen from hand to hand as she focused on it before smiling up at him, "I think I can help you."

A year: fifty-two sessions, fifteen dates, and one engagement later, she bore the cross of being his execution witness, Samurai having gone crazy from seeing his wretched arch enemy in public and spontaneously killing him with a concealed weapon – his katana.

The only thing running through her mind and out of her mouth that day as she stood in shock on the other side of a window: "Why, Samurai…what happens to your honor? You…you were doing so well…you were almost free…" Tears were streaming down her face as she touched her fingers lightly to the glass.

The Samurai only looked up with tears in his eyes, watching as the technician came at him with the syringe for lethal injection. "Illia…you never gave up on me…I'm so…sorry…"

Illia didn't know what else she could say to him besides professing her love one last time before averting her gaze, whereas she uttered the last sentence that he heard before he died. "Death…take me now so I don't have to watch…"

A loud chime was heard from the grandfather clock in the corner of the room, Illia suddenly jolting awake from the volume. There was wet on her face and weight in her lap, and when she rubbed her eyes and looked down, he found her pet snake blissfully asleep there.

"Horatio…" she whispered softly, carefully picking up the scaly, skeletal bundle from her legs and touching noses with him, trying to bring him to consciousness. "Wake up…I've got to go to work…"

The snake didn't move a muscle. Instead, he was frighteningly stiff and cold, his eyes glazed over and lifeless, like glass. He didn't flinch or swerve when picked up, nor did he flick his tongue out at her.

Horatio was dead.

A long breath drew itself out of Illia as she stood up, staring at her long-begotten friend as she put his corpse to rest in the seat of her chair. Fifteen years of friendship had come to an end, but at least he was in a better place. She'd bury him later. For now, she went on to put on her boots, slip into her coat, and grab a hat just in case of more rain. At least when she came home and saw the dead snake in her chair, she might be temporarily fooled. There was no time to cry about it now. She couldn't show that she wanted to, either.

Today she interviewed the inhabitants of Arkham.


	4. I'm Alright

Mad As A Hatter - Chapter Four: "I'm Alright"

I'm alright  
Nobody worry 'bout me  
Why you got to gimme a fight?  
Can't you just let it be?

I'm alright  
Don't nobody worry 'bout me  
You got to gimme a fight  
Why don't you just let me be

Do what you like,  
Doing it nat'rally  
But if it's too easy  
They're gonna disagree

It's your life  
And isn't it a mystery  
If it's nobody's bus'ness  
It's everybody's game

Gotta catch you later  
No, no, cannonball it right away

Some Cinderella kid

Get it up and get you a job  
(Dip dip dip dip dip dip dip dip)

I'm alright  
Nobody worry 'bout me  
Why you got to gimme a fight?  
Can't you just let it be?

I'm alright  
Don't nobody worry 'bout me  
You got to gimme a fight  
Why don't you just let me be

Who do you want?  
Who you gonna be today?  
And who is it really  
Makin' up your mind?

You wanna listen to the man?  
Pay attention to the magistrate  
And while I got you in the mood  
Listen to your

Own heart beatin'  
Own heart beatin'  
Own heart beatin'  
Own heart beatin'

Don't it get you movin'

mmmmm-man

It make me feel good

(Wow, Cinderella kid)

Then give it up and give it the job

(dip dip dip dip dip dip dip dip)  
(Boom, boom, boom, boom)

I'm alright  
Nobody worry 'bout me  
Why you got to gimme a fight?  
Can't you just let it be?

I'm alright  
Don't nobody worry 'bout me  
You got to gimme a fight  
Why don't you just let me be

I'm alright  
Nobody worry 'bout me  
Why you got to gimme a fight?  
Can't you just let it be?

I'm alright  
I'm alright  
Just let me be

Jonathan Crane, also known more for his alter ego "Scarecrow", had been leisurely sitting in Illia's office desk chair, feet propped up on the wood work. He looked rather bored and happened to be playing with the Newton's Cradle model that Illia had kept on her desk.

His deep, green eyes were narrowed behind his glasses and thick bangs of dark, caramel hair traced over his furrowed brow. Apparently he was thinking of something, but not for long. He placed the model back down on the desk and looked around, his expression now completely placid. Jonathan wasn't the most attractive type, but he had his charm. Perhaps it had something to do with his eyes, so full of expression and secrets.

Crane's hair wasn't much of a mess as Jervis', since he had more of a chance to clean himself up. After all, he wasn't the one who had attacks at night so he got more privileges. The ex-professor's form was that of far too skinny and didn't seem to help his long, gangly body. It was a mystery to see how he ever got around. And it wasn't just because he was malnourished, which he and the rest of the rogues were anyway, it was just because of his body type. He was like that ever since he was a child.

Knowing Crane's nature to use people's fears against them and controlling those fears, it was odd to say he and Jervis were quite good friends. Perhaps it was because they had several things in common. They were both tormented as children, both been used and controlled, one by fear and one by people in general, and both snapped after they could no longer take it. Perhaps it was also because of their love for literature and the fact that Jervis wasn't bothered by Jonathan's queer comments and appearance, same as Jonathan wasn't bothered by Jervis' tendency to quote and freak others out with his obsession with Wonderland.

It was a very odd friendship, but they themselves were odd to begin with. So therefore was the reason he was called into Illia's office, who happened to not be there as of yet. She apparently wished to speak to Crane to get more information or opinions about Jervis Tetch. Jonathan didn't really mind that, considering what Jervis had told him about the woman. It had been a while since he saw Jervis chirpier and happy ever since he began getting the attacks at night. He used to hardly speak at all and would come into the commons looking as if he went through hell and back. But now, he just seemed to brighten up, the dark rings under his eyes hardly noticeable.

Crane was surprised to think he was glad that Jervis was getting better, but still the attacks would go on at night and that still bothered him. Why and how the attacks started were beyond him. He had never sensed fear or any of the sort when he spoke to Jervis just the day before the first attack. Perhaps it was the fact Jervis could no longer stand this place? Jonathan began to think that sooner or later he would lose it at night too if he stayed in this shit-hole of a place any longer. Maybe, just maybe, he could use Illia as a means to get out. It looked like she planned on freeing Jervis too at this rate. It would be best if he stayed on good terms with the therapist.

And so, he got out of her office chair and walked back over to his appropriate seat, waiting for Miss Saint to show herself. He was glad there wasn't a clock in the room, for ticking of the clock and the silence in the room would have drove him truly mad.

It wasn't long before Illia finally did show up, her hair tussled slightly from the wind she had experienced on her two-hour walk to work. It was apparent by the slightly soggy look of her clothes and hair that it had rained again on her way there, her nose just a little red from the development of a slight cold. Her black eyes were dulled from the pain of her earlier incident of waking up to find her beloved pet dead in her lap, as well as the groggy feeling that loomed over her like a cloud, but overall she looked almost as alert as she had been for the past two days.

Kicking the door shut, she removed her coat and fedora to hang them on a peg before making her way to her chair and setting her briefcase down to the side to open it. Again, she was extremely focused as she put in her combination and opened it, pulling out several more papers than usual for the session.

"I see you've been enjoying the Newton's Cradle..." Illia mused without looking up.

"I had been waiting so long I had to resort to some how entertain myself," Jonathan replied, his gaze ever leaving her as he crossed both his arms and legs, "Difficult morning?" he mused, cupping his hand under his chin as he raised a delicate eyebrow.

"Quite observant," Illia replied, looking up for a brief instance, then lowering her gaze again. "You are correct." Her fingers fidgeted with the pen as result of a well-matured habit, suddenly starting to pen something down on her paper while her other hand swept back over her head to straighten her hair.

"Well...are we going to get started or do you want to wait until your mood changes?" Crane inquired, his tone having a soft, but agitated sound to it.

Illia sighed, trying not to huff at him. "We're doing this now." She opened up a few paper packets and spread them out before her on the desk. "Firstly, I need to inquire about one of your institutionalized companions, a Mr. Tetch. If you could kindly do so, please, give me a few words on him." Her pen was poised, ready to write.

"Hmm...he's a very interesting fellow. We're rather close, but what kind of things would you like me to tell you?" Jonathan asked while uncrossing his arms, "You know, he's actually talked about you before. He may finally get that Alice-woman out of his head."

"Anything distinguishing about his personality, past, anything you can tell me about his motives...really whatever's lying around in your mind collecting dust," Illia replied scribbling another a few dates on the paper as she thought about them. "Anything at all."

"When I first met him," Crane spoke as he studied his hands, "He was in hysterics. He couldn't distinguish reality from fantasy. It was a while before he recovered. He is usually calm and completely normal when we talk, except when he gets into his 'Wonderland' moods. He has his moments, not that anyone else in the asylum doesn't." Jonathan shrugged and let a sigh escape him, "I actually thought he was going to recover and get out of here until the attacks started. It didn't make sense that all of a sudden he lost it at night. After all, I think, besides me, he's the sanest one in this hell-hole. It's Joker who should be getting more attention from the people here."

Illia visibly flinched and dropped her pen, suddenly scrambling to resume her position and recover quickly as she started to write with a slightly-trembling hand. She was unable to speak, but her actions spoke far louder than any words from her mouth. If it was even possible, she was paler than before, her black eyes wider than ever as she fidgeted and dropped the pen again. It was after this that she decided to give herself time to relax before starting again.

Jonathan was going to say more, but stopped, his wide, green eyes filling with curiosity, "Oh, did I hit a touchy subject?" he mused, lacing his bony fingers together. His voice was still soft and collective, yet his expression was that of excitement. Oh, how he loved seeing the littlest spark of fear in someone. Especially /this/ one. There was something about her, something about the dark mist that happened to swarm around her. It wasn't visible to most, but it was visible to Crane.

"No," Illia replied after two seconds of mental rehearsal to keep herself from betraying anymore apprehension on her part, "Low blood sugar." Her hand felt for the flask on her belt, finding and detaching it before biting off the lid, putting it down on the desk, and taking a long hard swig of the substance within. It smelled even more strongly than the last concoction she had. True, it did make her stop shaking, but it didn't take away the presence of her fear.

Fear in which Jonathan was feeding off of, maybe not literally, but it was making him feel very, very excited. "That so? Well, as I was saying about Joker..." he trailed off, watching for any more betrayal to her emotions.

But the only betrayal this time was the tightening of her grip around the flask and another drink from it. She was even further on edge than she had been in a very long time. "Please, continue." Her voice was the ultimate give-away, considering it was low and had a twitch in it.

"Are you sure everything is alright? I sense a twinge of fear. It's been twice now that you reacted to a certain word. May I ask what may be the real problem?" Crane had apparently switched rolls at the moment, considering he was once a psychiatrist, let alone a college professor who had an obsession with people's fears.

Illia, however, saw exactly where Dr. Crane was going with this, and she didn't like it one bit. Not that she was going to be able to escape this situation. What would she have to say to herself later for running away? She would have been nothing more than a coward, in her opinion.

With this in mind, she took a long breath. "Alright." she mumbled darkly, "I'll tell you."

A cold, pale white hand covered her mouth as another pulled her back into the darkness, a dark, chilling laughter filling the foggy, horror filled atmosphere, "Why, hello, there my pretty! Little late to be out isn't it, sweetums?" Another chuckle, the darkness covering up the face of Illia's capture. "Don't try to wiggle free, you'll hurt my feelings and I'll have to make my lovable pets to come get you back," he whispered, but laughed again, a chorus of hyena laughs behind him as two of the beasts came up beside both sides of their master and Illia.

The white-haired teenager struggled violently against the grip of her attacker, trying to scream and bite as best as possible, but to no avail. He was too strong, and he had her too compromising a position to do anything further. She was getting lightheaded from the fear running through her, and she finally had to stop fighting.

"That's a good girl," Joker whispered in her ear, taking her out of the ally and soon enough in one of his hideouts. He had recently escaped out of Arkham, but had left his dear Harley Quinn behind and he didn't feel like coming back for her. So instead, he decided to pick another little lady to have a little fun with.

Illia was in tears already as she was forced along with him, unsure of what was about to happen to her. Not that she had a lot of room to ask about it. Her mouth was being covered. All she could do was do what she was told until she was sure he was going too far. She didn't realize that he was about to.

"Now, I'm going to take my hand away, and if you dare to scream, I'll have to break that pretty little neck of yours. We savvy, love?" Joker asked, wiggling his eyebrows, his grin as wide as ever.

Illia only nodded, shivering violently as her black eyes grew darker than the voids of the abyss. He had successfully terrified her beyond her wit to respond any other way than to obey him. Her fingers were tense as she tried to clench them and get a grip.

"Goodie! I think I really am going to like you," he laughed in his eerie way and took his hand from her mouth, "Now let's see...what shall I do with you first? Wanna play a few games, hmm?"

Illia was completely torn and unable to respond now, still shivering and steadily growing more pale and clammy from fright. She wanted to scream, "No! I don't want to play your sick games! I want to go home!" There was no way, though. If she disagreed with him she'd be punished somehow. She had a feeling she was about to be anyways. Finally, however, out of a streak of self-gain, she shook her head before losing herself to her tears again.

Joker's smile turned to a frowned and he narrowed his black, bottomless eyes and stroked her tear stained face with a finger for a moment until suddenly slapping her hard across the face, "Too bad, because I'm in a playful mood!" he cackled. "and now, let the games role!"

Games at which young minds should be kept from reading. Even Jonathan was slightly disturbed by Illia's descriptions of what happened to her, and the fact that Batman never came until much, much later when he found the Joker's hideout.

Again, Illia drank deeply from her flask, suddenly finishing it off with a deep breath. "That's what happened."

Jonathan kept his hands folded and he sighed, nodding his head, "I can understand your fear and loathing of Joker...but is this also a reason why you despise the Batman?" he asked, his expression solemn and calm, though a feeling of disgust that he already had for the homicidal clown was growing.

"Yes. Every other crime he was there to put a stop to..." Illia mumbled, bringing the flask from her lips and screwing the cap back on. "But for mine and mine alone, he was a full hour LATE!" Her flask came down on the desk with a loud crack, Illia's expression not changing as she picked up her pen to write something down. "If you're familiar with The Samurai's case, you'll know the other reason."

"Oh, yes, I heard about that one. But I sense we should change the subject. Any more questions you want to ask me?" Jonathan asked, pushing his glasses up with his index finger.  
There was a tight grip to Illia's pen as she nodded and glanced at another paper. "Could you rate his insanity for me? I just need some insight on that, your own personal opinion."

"I'd give it between a seven or an eight. With the attacks he's been having...it's hard to tell anymore. Sometimes they aren't very bad, but sometimes he screams so loud the entire asylum can here him," Crane sighed, rubbing his temples, "Oh, one more thing you probably should know, but you might already-I over heard the nurses saying they changed his medication. I also heard it made him very sick, so I'm not sure of what condition he could be in today."

Illia sighed and shook her head, making notes. "Changed his medication. They should know that medicines are a probable instigator for most of his problems anyways. I'm going to suggest otherwise..." Again, she scribbled. "I think that's about all I can think of right now. To ask you, that is. If I think of something else, I'll catch you at a later time."

Jonathan only nodded and got up, "So I suppose we're done now?"

"We are," Illia replied, getting up to unlock the door and open it back up. "I'll be seeing you later today."

"Be careful with Jervis," Jonathan warned, his eyes narrowed, "He's been easily used by people and I'm sure it's killing him more each time. I may not know your full intentions dealing with Jervis, but don't hurt him," and with that, he let the guard take him away down the hall.

Illia closed the door and locked it before heading back to her desk. "Believe me..." she whispered to herself. "That's the last thing I intend to do..." The whisper hit the walls, coming back to her as small breezes. "Like others have done to me..." She put her head down in her arms and cried quietly for the next twenty minutes.


	5. Hollow

Mad as A Hatter Chapter Five: "Hollow"

To you  
I'm all I've left undone  
I'm all I haven't won  
Lift me up my soul's so hollow  
Lift me up

You take  
The breath you didn't make  
What's left you did forsake  
Lift me up my soul's so hollow  
Lift me up my soul's so hollow

You can make me scream internally  
You can make me breathe eternally  
Yeah

You see  
The things I cannot change  
The things that make me plain  
Lift me up my soul's so hollow  
Lift me up

We've made  
All from the sum of none  
All that we have become  
Lift me up my soul's so hollow  
Lift me up my soul's so hollow

You can make me scream internally  
You can make me breathe eternally

You can make me scream internally  
You can make me breathe eternally  
Yeah

Fill, fill what's in me  
Fill, fill what's in you  
Fill, fill what's in me  
So my soul's not left so hollow

You can make me SCREAM  
You can make me BREATHE

You can make me scream internally  
You can make me breathe eternally

You can make me scream  
You can make me breathe  
You can make me scream  
You can make me breathe, me breathe

Within the florescent lighted room, Jervis Tetch walked around the room, relieved to be out of his straight jacket. He hadn't gotten any sleep last night, well perhaps only a few minutes, but he forced himself awake each time. He did not want to deal with the darkness in his mind that kept trying to drag him down.

He looked so ill, his skin pale as his eyes seemed to turn red as if he'd been crying. The rings under his eyes had turned a shade of red as well. None of the nurses seemed to really care though or even realized that the new medicine they had given him was making him weaker and weaker. That was why Jervis kept on moving around. He didn't want to pass out or fall asleep and never wake up again.

The Mad Hatter shuddered at the thought, wrapping his arms around himself and hanging his head, oily bangs covering his face from lack of cleaning. He had yet to be taken to the shower room in the past three days or more. Since he did not know the time of the day, he really hadn't the slightest idea how many days it actually had been.

Quite frankly it was driving him mad or madder if you want to get technical. "Oooh…why am I doing this to myself?" he whispered, swaying as he walked, "There really is no point on carrying on. That woman may think she could help me…but let's face it. I'm completely doomed, hell, I think I'm dying now anyway!" Jervis choked on his words and sank to his knees.

"Please! Death doesn't want you yet, believe me!" echoed a voice from behind him. Jervis swerved around and instantly regretted it as his head began to spin and he was forced to close his eyes for a moment. Opening them once he felt as better as he was going to get, he stared into the widest, largest, silvery eyes of the same odd cat he saw yesterday appearing on the doorknob while he thought over escaping.

The ward opened his mouth to say something, but it just hung there, his eyes just as wide.

"I would ask if a cat got your tongue, but that would be rather redundant now wouldn't it?" droned the cat, although its mouth was formed in a very large grin. Since Jervis saw it much closer, the fur was a very dark purple, almost black while the mangy fur also had a lighter shape of stripes.

"How-you-you're the Cheshire Cat, aren't you?" Jervis sputtered, trembling. Perhaps he was so excited to actually see a creature he so obviously believed in, or was frightened out of his wits because he might just be losing his mind entirely as Jonathan would say.

Jervis raised his shaking hand towards the scraggly cat and hesitated to touch it, "Well, if you want to find out of I'm real, hurry up already! By the by, yes I /am/ the Cheshire Cat. At least one of 'em. You can jus call me Cheshire."

"R-right…there are more of you?" Jervis asked, finally touching the cat. To his surprise it was very real. A bit bony around it, but the fur was unusually soft instead of ruff as you would expect. A quiet purr escaped Cheshire as Jervis scratched him behind the ear, "I would expect the White Rabbit to visit me first…"

"Hmph. That rodent only exists in your mind and fairy tales. And yes, there is one other of me. My sister. She didn't really want me to show myself to you first, but I thought you might like someone to talk to considering you look like…well…in the kindest words I can muster, you look like shit."

"Well, I thank you for your honesty," Jervis growled, sitting in a more comfortable fashion on the floor as he watched Cheshire walk around him, tail swishing in the air. "You have a sister? Where is she?"

"She's here. Just to shy to show herself." the cat answered, rolling his eyes.

"I am not, I say!" hissed a raspy feminine voice, though the body of which it came from ceased to exist as of yet.

"To tell you the truth," Cheshire went on, pouncing on Jervis' back and putting its whiskery face next to the man's ear, "She has a bit of a crush on you," he whispered. "Gah-" the purple feline was soon yanked away from Jervis by two visible paws with rather long, frightening sharp claws.

"You are nothing but a RAT, do you know that?" the paws weren't the only thing showing, as the feline's anger caused her to forget her concentration with her invisibility. She wasn't much different from Cheshire, except for the fact she had a lighter, pinkish purple coat of fur with magenta stripes. Her eyes shown like fiery embers as she sank her claws into her twin brother.

"Hey-hey! Stop that!" Jervis snapped, pulling the two raging felines off of each other. Holding them both by the ruff of their neck, he narrowed his eyes, his bad health suddenly forgotten, "What are you /really/ and what do you want?" he demanded.

"I already told you," Cheshire replied, his tone sarcastic, "We're Cheshire Cats, and we're here because we've always been here. Always watching you-ow!" Cat swung a paw at her brother,

"We're not supposed to tell!"

"Please don't fight! I'm very confused…can you please explain? I'm not imagining all this am I?"

"What more proof do you need? Want me to scratch you? I'll give you a warning, I haven't taken any shots," Cheshire warned, getting a hateful and agitated glare from his sister. Jervis only sighed and placed them back on the floor and rubbed his forehead, pinching his nose and leaning his head back,

"I think I'm going to be sick…"

"Please, take a seat, lie down," said cat, her voice softer and more concerned, "You need to rest,"

"I can't! If you've been watching me like you said, you would know I can't rest or sleep."

"Yes, well, perhaps that woman can help him feel better," Cat insisted, looking at Cheshire who sneered.

"I don't trust her. Therapists don't know what the 'ell there doing."

"She seems nice…" Cat sighed, lowering her ears, "Maybe she'll even let Jervis go!"

"What? In this condition?" Cheshire groaned, placing a paw on his face and shaking his head, "When she takes a look at him today she'll probably give up!"

"Especially if she sees me talking to two grinning cats, that probably don't really exist!" Jervis complained, sinking back to the floor as he leaned against the wall of his cell.

Both of the grinning cats' ears perked up when they heard footsteps and suddenly both of them disappeared, leaving Jervis alone in his room as the door to his room slid open.

It was Illia.

She still looked a little less-than-composed, as compared to the last two days, but she was composed enough. The briefcase was in her hand, as she had brought it with her. In a last moment's decision, she decided to visit Jervis in his cell instead. She took in his appearance and was silent as she walked in, closing the door once in and blinking at him solemnly.

"Can you tell me what happened?"

"Tell you what about what happened...?" Jervis looked at her, confused, "That they changed my medicine and I feel like I'm going to vomit my insides any moment now and keel over? I don't even know why I even took those pills...hardly ever do anyway," he muttered to himself, holding his head.

For the longest time, the therapist was quiet, looking over Jervis without moving before dropping to her knees and putting the briefcase in front of her. "Do you know what they gave you the medicine for?" she asked him with the same tone as she started putting the combination into the mechanism.

Jervis pushed his shoulders up as if to shrug, but failed, shaking his head, "Not a clue...maybe they just wanted to shut me up at night," he answered, his words quiet and unstable. He was so tired and it was getting harder for him to speak. "If that's the case...it's working full time..."

"Huh..." the white-haired woman mused as she leafed through a few papers. "They wish to keep you quiet...you don't sleep..." she assumed, looking up for a moment of confirmation.

"Can't...I mean...I can...but things happen..." Jervis replied, his voice fading each time he spoke as he fought to keep his eyes open.

Illia looked deeply into his eyes for a moment, as though searching for something invisible in them, and once she seemed to find what she was looking for, she nodded. "I'll be here for the rest of the night in case something happens." She wrote something down on the papers before tucking them back into the case, looking up and taking in his appearance again. A wash of anger suddenly hit her in the realization that he hadn't been bathed. "I'll be back in a minute. This shouldn't take long." She stood up started to the door of the cell. "Oh..." she murmured, turning her head briefly towards him. "And try not to tense up too much by the time I get back." She pushed the door ajar, slipped out of it, closed it, and was gone.

Jervis pushed himself up a little from sinking to the floor and only succeeded with a slight nod before she left. It wasn't too long before his eyelids began to be too hard to fight and suddenly Jervis' body went limp and he fell asleep.

A few of the nurses were chit-chatting back in the hospital wing, giggling and gossiping about whatever one of their friends or co-workers were doing and not doing.

And Illia was headed right toward them, her fingers weaving in and out of her locks as she managed a messy hair sushi, securing it into place with two pens before drawing a pair of glasses out of her pocket and slipping the frames onto her nose.

Anyone who had take the time to get to know Illia knew that when she pulled out that rare set of glasses, it was never a good thing. She might have yelled very loudly at the secretary, but the glasses meant that Illia was on a rampage of the Holy Terror of Hell.

One nurse turned around and looked at Illia, motioning the other nurses to look that way. "Hey, look...I'll bet it's someone else here to complain...again." Her giggles took over.

"Oh, please, what could it be now?" chortled one of the other nurses, placing a hand on one of her co-horts shoulders to catch her self as she laughed. "I hope it won't be a long rant...did you hear what she did to the secretary?"

"No..." replied the other nurse, her eyes wide with awe. "What did she do?"

"Tell us!" begged another.

"I think she scared the poor girl stiff. I heard they got a replacement now 'cuz the lady keeled over afterwards!"

A chorus of "oh my goodness" and "wow" arose from the nurses as Illia approached, her black eyes as hard and cold as that of obsidian rock, a couple of the nurses backing away a few steps out of nervousness. All they had to do was that story in order to fear her, but they were still trying to hide it.

"I should like to have a word with you all," the therapist told them with a straight face, her brows lowered a little in response to her hostility. "It's rather important."

"Y-yes, ma'am? What is it that you need to discuss?" asked one of the nurses, ringing her hands nervously as she forced a smile, "Something the matter?"

"I'm afraid there is," Illia replied, closing her eyes briefly as she removed the glasses again to put them back in her pocket where they belonged, and once opened again, her eyes were another degree of holy terror to behold. "If you ladies will please follow me, I'll direct your attention to the item that needs addressing." With that, the therapist turned promptly on her heel and started back down the hall.

One nurse looked to the other. "Should we follow her?"

"I'm afraid of what will happen if we don't...so we probably should..." the second replied nervously, both looking up to the third nurse for direction.

The third nurse nodded, her eyeswide with nervousness and fear, "We should follow..." she answered, hurrying after Illia.

Jervis' sleep wasn't long lasting as the nightmares consumed his mind and he writhed on the floor, clawing at himself and trying to get things away from him that weren't quite there.

Both Cheshire Cats watched hopelessly, their forms still unseen to anyone for they sensed others were approaching soon. "What are we going to do? At the rate he's going he'll tear out his eyes!" Cat cried. Cheshire's fur bristled and he arched his back,

"I don't know, but that therapist better get back here soon or I'll tear out /her/ eyes if anything happens to him!"

The first two nurses nodded quietly and began to scuttle on after Illia, who led them back to Jervis' door, nervous when her scowl deepened.

"When was his medication changed, and why?" she demanded.

The first nurse spoke up nervously. "W-well...the...the first didn't seem to be helping him...and we thought that maybe something else would work..."

Cynical laughter arose. It was coming from Illia, who looked crazed and angry in one expression. "Do you REALLY thing that normal medicines can fix THAT?!" She grabbed the nurse by the back of the head, gripping her black locks as she banged the terrified woman's head against the window, forcing her to look in. "I swear to GOD, your brains are all located in your breasts!" Her fingers unclenched, the disheveled nurse regaining her balance and stepping back several times. She was shaking already.

"W-w didn't know! But I mean...he's sick already...how could he possibly get worse?" announced one of the nurses, "He does /that/ every night!" she motioned to the window where Jervis was suffering from his attack. "We need to put him a padded cell and keep him in a straightjacket! He's too unstable!"

"That's the next thing I'm going to talk to you about," Illia added, approaching the nurse who had spoken. "You keep him in his padded cell because you don't want him to hurt himself, but you're already hurting him by doing it! Where do you get the idea that it is exactly good for someone's health to not allow them to bathe! Look at him! He's a wreck! Diseases and viruses can culture from not bathing!" The therapist was only starting to flip out, and it was apparent that she was going to get worse.

"I'm not the one on duty to do that!" snapped the nurse, "It's her job!" she pointed to the other nurse who had been yelled at earlier, "Besides, you don't seem to be helping him all that much either! We have to send someone down to him now."

The two quieter nurses backed away again, their eyes wide with fear of their companion's bravery. They desperately wanted to tell her to shut up, but now it appeared to be too late. Illia was completely cheezed off, and the two nurses watched helplessly as Illia got up into her face. Not a problem for her, either, considering her stature.

"Listen," she spat spitefully, "It is not just HER job to make sure that everyone stays bathed. It is the duty of ALL of you to make sure wards are taken care of properly." She put her hand on the nurse's shoulder, a crushing grip ensuing. "I'm going back in there, and I'm going to SHOW you what you're SUPPOSED to DO." She released her shoulder and threw one hand in the air as she fiddled with the lock. "God, I'm not even of your PROFESSION, and I could beat you out of your job at this rate!" She threw the door opened and looked back. "Stay there. If you move, there will be HELL to pay." The therapist slammed the door behind her.

The nurses watched her go into Jervis' cell and went silent.

Jervis' attack wasn't going to stop anytime soon. He was screaming and shouting things that were hardly understandable and he had begun digging his nails into his arms as if things were crawling around him and biting him. Tears and sweat were all over his face, including blood from when he scratched up his face.

Illia knelt down by him and started muttering in some indiscernable language. No spells to use, no, but rather just swearing out of frustration. It was at this point that she decided to divulge the utility belt around her waist, one that held all manner of chemicals, substances, empty capsules, poisons, and God only knew what else.

And all at once she began to draw out different ones, one by one.

"Alright..." she mumbled nervously, opening, pouring, closing, mixing carefully as she did so. The substances began to mix and become a deep shade of purple, almost black, starting to turn all manner of colors as she shook the vial a few times. "This should take care of those attacks for now..." She uncorked the glass tube and smelled, nearly cringing. It was an incredibly strong sedative that smelled very much of something rotten, thought it wasn't harmful. She had taken years to developed it, namely for the smell. The reason?

Anything that would smell this bad would repel people who sought to addict themselves to her drug.

Her fingers trembled as she started to fill a syringe full of it, quickly injecting it into the back of Jervis' neck, watching him for change as soon as she withdrew it.

The Mad Hatter suddenly went still, his breathing shallow, but soon changed to regular for anyone in a deep sleep. His eyes were shut tight and seemed to strain a bit, but it wasn't long until Jervis was completely calm. A few mutterings escaped his lips, but they still weren't audible enough to understand.

For a few moments more, Illia watched him, being sure that her solution worked as it was suppose to before getting up and heading out of the room, adjusting her belt as she pushed open the door. "Now then." She stretched her arms out behind her, then in front of her. "You girls are going to learn a new word today." Her glare returned. "Called 'CLEAN'."

The nurses nodded, eyes wide, looking back at Illia to Jervis and back to Illia again. They hesitated to go near the unconscious ward and finally two helped carry him out.

"Follow me, please." Illia did an about-face and headed for the shower room, the first nurse following, then the next as she led on, afraid of the consequences.

Had Illia been any more mirthful about her present situation, she would have appeared to have been a demented kindergarten teacher. She had the crazed look in her eyes that said that there was no messing with her. "Now then..." she told the nurses after she had seen the all arrive. "This is a shower." She pointed to the installment in the wall, twisting a knob and watching a steaming stream shoot from it. "And this is water..." She twisted the knob and cut the water off, finally pointing to a cake of something on a small shelf. "This remains soap."

The first two nurses looked at each other in confusion, feeling a little sick with fear as they watched the demonstration.

"The idea of cleaning is to apply soap and water, while avoiding most major orifaces, lather, rince, and perhaps repeat if necessary!" Illia continued, "Something which the three of you have been extremely negligent about. Now subject X here..." The therapist pointed to the unconscious Jervis, "A.K.A. Mr. Tetch...He is filthy. Now based on the lesson you've learned here today, what is the THEORUM of what actions should be taken?" Her arms crossed tightly.

One nurse spoke up, "Um...clean him?"

"How?" Illia snapped back quickly.

"Gently!" the nurse whimpered back. "That's right, right? Isn't it? Is it right?" She would have continued questioning had another nurse not clamped her hand over her mouth in the fear that she would agitate the therapist further.

"Correct..." Illia muttered. "And that's precisely what you're going to do."

And that was precisely what they did.

A while later Jervis woke up in hid cell under soft new covers and he rubbed his eyes weakly, but surprised to feel much better. "What happened...?" he mumbled, wondering if anyone was in the room with him.

"Well..." came the voice of his therapist, who sat balanced carefully on the rail at the foot of his bed, a clipboard in her arms as she wrote a few obscure notes on a form attached to it, "You're clean now, for one thing." She looked over at him. "How do you feel?"

"Oh," Jervis spoke, looking at her tiredly as he forced a smile, "A whole lot better actually..." he answered and looked away, gripping his covers as he sat up in thought, eyes cast down to the bed.

"Well then, that's certainly an improvement," Illia replied with a small smile of her own. "I should probably tell you this, though, before I neglect to do so." She tucked her pen behind her ear and put her files back into the briefcase. "You'll be under my hand in a small procedure later tonight. I just thought I'd warn you."

"What do you mean?" Jervis looked back over, his eyes narrowing. "What procedure?"

"Something..." Illia lingered painfully over the word as she crossed her legs and turned a little more to half-face him. "To rid you of the attacks in your sleep. A little tedious, but if all goes well, you should never see the problem again."

"And how do you suppose you do that?" Jervis Tetch asked suspiciously, raising one eyebrow.

Illia looked over at him for a moment of silence. "The method of carry-out is unimportant. You'll be asleep when it's being performed. No more questions, please. I cannot answer them all right now." The therapist ran a nervous set of fingers back through her hair. "But I will answer what I can later on."

Jervis looked at her strangely for a while and just shrugged it off, "Right."

He got out of the bed and decided to walk around quietly, his hands folded behind him and his brow furrowed in thought. Things were running through his mind at the moment that he couldn't keep it straight and he stood still and rubbed his temples, "If you don't mind my asking...last question...what time is it?"

Unlike most women, Illia preferred to wear a pocket watch rather than the traditional wristwatch. "Well...it's about six thirty in the evening...about three hours until tea time, to be precise," she appended, knowing that this information would be of some interest to Jervis. "Why do you ask?"

"Is it really? I haven't known what time it is for a few months, actually," he crossed his arms, "I tried figuring it out when the meals came, but they were never in the same pattern so after a few weeks I just gave up. I even tried asking other people but they never knew or just ignored me."

"I see..." Illia trailed off in thought, closing the watch and reaching down into her pocket. "Well, I've got a solution to that, which I think will work quite nicely." A small click was heard as she detached the chain of her watch from her pants, gathering the silver links and the attached watch into her hands and gently placing them into Jervis'.

He was slightly startled when she gave him the pocket watch and he smiled, "Thank you, but you don't really have to give me this," Jervis told her.

Illia smiled back at him, faintly so, but doing so nonetheless. "It's not a problem really. Consider it a token of my appreciation in response to your cooperation." She slid off of the rail of the bed, getting to her feet and picking up her briefcase. "I'll be back later on tonight. Around nine." On those parting words, she turned to leave, opening the door of Jervis' room and disappearing out of it. She seemed to have an odd habit of disappearing unexpectedly like this, but it was all in her personality.

"Goodbye," Jervis said quietly and looked down at his knew pocket watch in his hand, "I need to catch up with Time," he mumbled.


	6. Clear the Area

Chapter six: Clear the Area

Knock, knock…are you alone?  
No one's out here and I was not followed.  
Look, love…you're already home.  
Party's over and you don't look so good.

You find your way back down.  
And I'll keep the area clear…please clear the area.  
When you find your way back down…in one piece.  
Then I'll just be waiting here…right here.

Low light…mercury morning…  
No need to stay as it's always nothing.  
But your eyes tell a whole other story…and I feel the weight of the world.  
You Won't talk…You Won't try…just move…  
It's too still in your sadness.  
Cry…give up…it's okay…  
You've just got to trust me.

You find your way back down.  
And I'll keep the area clear…please clear the area.  
When you find your way back down…in one piece.  
Then I'll just be waiting here…right here.

Slowly…darling…nobody means anymore to me than you  
If you're in…baby then I'm in (into this)…with you, always.  
Careful…close to the edge…(You're scaring me)  
Fall in to my arms….(away with it all)  
Fall…into love…love

You find your way back down.  
And I'll keep the area clear…please clear the area.  
When you find your way back down…in one piece.  
Then I'll just be waiting here…right here.

You find your way back down.  
And I'll keep the area clear…please clear the area.  
When you find your way back down…in one piece.  
Then I'll just be waiting here…right here.

You find your way back down.  
Way back down,  
And I'll keep the area clear…please clear the area.  
When you find your way back down…in one piece.  
Then I'll just be waiting here…right here.

At five minutes 'til nine, Illia found herself sitting alone in the office down the hall where she had been holding her sessions with Jervis, fiddling with several objects on her desk. She had just put down a Rubix cube and picked up a metal slinky, playing with that absent-mindedly as she remained. There wasn't much time until the procedure, but that wasn't what worried her- the staff knew nothing about it. They couldn't.

She had given some thought to trying to walk home straight after coming out of Jervis' room, but decided against it. It was six-thirty when she left, and it would take two hours to the house, another fifteen to bury her poor snake's corpse- which had stayed in her chair the entire time- and another two hour to run back. By then, it would have been far past time to do the procedure, and having been emotionally shaken by both Jonathan and the death, she wouldn't have been up to it.

Not that she wasn't emotionally shaken now, but she would also have been more tired.

Her eyes wandered up to the wall clock hanging on the opposite side of the room. Nine sharp. Time to go. She put down her slinky and got up, the chair squeaking as she did so, and finding no need for her briefcase this time, she opted to leave it beside her desk when she exited the room, heading down to Jervis's room without further delay and opening the door quietly.

Jervis had been watching the time with the pocket watch since he got it, and once the hour hand touched nine he found himself catching his breath. He wasn't sure at all about what Illia planned and if this procedure was safe at all. He finally let out a breath and turned his gaze to the door in his cell as footsteps echoed through the hall. He also wondered where the two grinning cats were, considering he hadn't seen them again since before his attack earlier that day.

The door closed quietly behind Illia as she sauntered in on silent feet, her expression solemn as she rubbed one arm and walked in. "I trust the past two-and-a-half hours went well?" she inquired as she searched her utility belt for a chemical she needed.

"I suppose," he answered, watching her. "Not much to do to pass the time, though."

"That doesn't much surprise me," Illia mumbled as she pulled out three vials, one empty, one full of black-purple substance, and another full of something red. She had bitten the corks off of all three containers, pouring the contents of the two into the empty one, and was now in the process of replacing the corks and replacing them into her belt where they needed to be. One chemical out of place meant a bad mix-up. Her eyes traveled back up to him. "Are you ready for this?"

"What exactly are you going to do?" Jervis asked warily, his eyes fixed on the substances, "I don't see where you're going with this..."

"I'm going to put you to sleep..." Illia stated bluntly, pulling a thickly-folded white cloth from one pocket, carefully covering the mouth of the vial with it as she shook the substance into the linen. When she withdrew the soaked cloth from the now-empty vial, it was the color of blood. "You won't feel, smell, or taste a thing."

Jervis backed away, a look of panic consuming his features. He cleared his throat and laughed uneasily, "Don't you think that's a little unnecessary?"

"There is no other way," Illia told him solemnly, advancing on him slowly. "It's the only way to make sure that you won't wake up during the procedure."

"But what is the actual procedure? Is it even legal? How can I even trust you?" Jervis snapped, continuing to back away from the white-haired woman.

Illia waited until she had Jervis cornered, then stooped down slightly to Jervis' level. "Have I tried to hurt you yet? If I had wanted to try to do something bad to you, I would have tried by now." She let out a sigh. "Now I need you to comply if you want to get better. I know my methods are unorthodox, but they're not harmful."

Jervis chewed on his lower lip and contemplated on what she said before he let his guard down, "All right..." he sighed, looking down at the floor.

"Good," Illia replied solemnly, walking around behind him and firmly crossing her right arm in front of him, across his collarbone, and clutching his left shoulder to support him. Her left hand pressed the cloth over his mouth and nose. "Now breathe."

Jervis hesitated, instantly regretting for agreeing to do this and breathed in. Illia caught him as soon as the fumes had knocked him out, putting him on his bed with no difficulty and stuffing the rag into her pocket. She seemed intent to stare at him for a few moments before suddenly smearing something thick and black over the window of the cell door. "Can't have onlookers..." she mumbled to herself as she cracked her fingers one way, and then inversely. "Now let's see if I can still do this..."

Her last word drifted from her mouth in a hiss as she tilted her head back and spread out her arms, her form becoming consumed in a purple glow with her feet becoming a violet mist with the rest of her body subliminalizing in succession. "Now...into to the cause of his fear..." the therapist whispered, her voice carrying a slight echo as the rest of her turned to purple steam. "Into his psyche!" The mist suddenly swirled and entered in through one ear, disappearing inside of his head.

During such a travel, only one thing is really discernable: the sensation of falling at the rate of thousands of miles per hour, and had the sensation actually been true to feeling, she would have been killed when she hit what felt like ground. It wasn't very soft, but it definitely hadn't been hard enough to kill her. Cautiously, she ran her fingers over the surface, observing as she felt what seemed like grass, as though she had landed somewhere outside. She wasn't for sure where she was, however, as she had still not opened her eyes. "God...I hope I didn't take a wrong turn..." she mused in her mind. "Then again, how could I make a wrong turn in this labyrinth? I just landed inside of a human brain for God's sake..." Illia sat up and rubbed her head dazedly, glancing around her in complete wonderment as to what had been created in the depths of her client's mind. And also what she appeared to be wearing:

A black lolita dress in the gothic persuasion that seemed to poof out at the bottom, where it came to her pale knees. Her legs seemed to be adorned by dark purple-and-black-striped stockings- the topping feature of those being that they were toe socks- that came up to the middles of her thighs. Upon her feet was a pair of cheesy, Mary Jane-style shoes, shiny, black and a perfect accent to the frock and socks. Embellishing her head was a lacey, overlarge black bow that did all but keep her bangs out of the way. Lastly, over the dress was thrown a frilly full apron of purest white, and before she could get the word "yuck" out of her mouth, she noticed that her utility belt and supplies were all gone. Thus the word "fuck" came out instead.

"What the hell kind of..." she trailed off as she arose, meticulously brushing dirt from the dress. She was still the neat person she liked to be, however, this was admittedly not her style of clothes. At all. She would have to kill someone for this. Later, though, because she had to find Jervis.

Jervis was stuck in part of the maze, having no luck in finding his way out. Especially when the Red Queen's cards were busy searching for him. "Damn...I get stuck in all sorts of places here. Why can't it just be normal?" he sighed, looking around and covering his mouth to hold in a scream as female Cheshire Cat appeared on top of the brick wall.

"Now that we are apparently allowed to show our selves to you, I'm sure we can help you out of here," she purred, jumping down. Jervis stayed quiet and pressed his back against the wall as he heard footsteps that didn't quite sound like the feet of the queen's cards.

Jervis gulped, fearing it was the one creature he always ran into and tortured him the worse. And to think the March Hare was supposed to be his best friend? So far he hadn't run into either the hare or the jabberwocky.

For a long time, Illia seemed to stand there in a trance, gawking at everything around her. Unfortunately, she had no idea which direction to start in first, and without some sort of clue, she might be sent on the opposite road. Considering the fact that the entire scene was a devised illusion of her client's mind, it reeked of him all over. There was no way she'd find him, even with highly-trained aural senses and smell. She started to set on foot forward, but stopped when she felt something on her head move, almost twitch anxiously.

"What...?" she mumbled incredulously, moving a hand slowly up to the top of her head, back past the bow to feel two long and furry protrusions sprouting from her head. Her expression changed to disgust. "Now what?!" Her breath coming in short bursts, Illia ran in panic to a puddle of stagnant-smelling water, dropping to her knees beside it and leaning over it precariously.

Rabbit ears. Two big white rabbit ears.

She looked horrified, not an inaccurate expression- given her current circumstances anyways. Her weapons were gone, she looked like a pedophile's dream, and she had rabbit ears. She couldn't help but grumble crossly as she stood up again, once more brushing the dirt away and taking a breath through her nose, trying to accustom herself to her surroundings and deciding to take a path that led off over a hill, guided by a sign that read "To the Hatter's". Though she really had no idea where it would take her, but she didn't complain and just started walking, shoes clicking on the cobblestones.

At least this road was going somewhere- away from there.

'Can't even be safe in my own home...' Jervis thought, though it was pointless considering he was in his mind so his thought was out loud anyway. Big mistake as the March Hare turned his head to the right side of the garden. It wasn't anything like the good 'ol Disney Hare. NO, not at all. It was very much like American McGee's version. Sickly, scarred, robotic feet, and other parts which it blamed on the Hatter.

"Don't you want to go back to the tea party?" the deformed rabbit asked, nose twitching and eyebrows raised. "You always seem to run away now..."

"Because I know what you're trying to do! I didn't do this to you...I'm not the real Hatter..." it pained him to say it, but the hare ignored him, "Oh, pish posh. Yu used to be a machine yourself you know, you even did that to yourself. Then me and Dormy...well, now that you seem to have changed, it should be fitting that I do it to you this time!"

On and on Illia's legs carried her, the therapist growing more and more amazed with the complexity of this world within Jervis' mind- that an how comfortable her shoes turned out to be. There was no time to think about that now, though. She had to find Jervis, and seemed to be having some incredible trouble doing so. She came to a fork in the road, three directions and signs set before her. They were none too helpful.

"This way," Illia read from the first sign, "That way," she read from the second, "That other way," she read from the third, sighing perplexedly and scratching her head. Out of the three of them, the third seemed the most promising from it's lack of orthodox, simply because it had one more word than the others. Therefore, "This way and That" were eliminated rather quickly, and she ran down the third path with one further thought: "Damn it, I want my grenades!"

"Need some help?" purred Cheshire as he appeared on top her head, pawing at her newly found bunny ears. His grin appeared even wider. "I could show you the actual right direction to the Hatter and it isn't this way..."

Illia suddenly stopped in her tracks, stood up straight, crossed her arms, and rolled her eyes up to glare at the cat who seemed to have made himself comfortable on her ears. "It took you long enough..."

"Well, I'm sorry, my sister is busy with your client, and I had to find you." he hissed, jumping off and only floating in the air, "Now, it was actually this way, which is 'That Way'," he droned, not bothering to point, for Cheshire wasn't known to make much sense, whether he wanted to help Jervis or not.

This caused Illia to pause for a moment in thought, her mind scrambling quickly to figure out what road he meant, but when her newly-formed rabbit ears began to pick up the faintest sound commotion from the north-west, she broke into a run away from the path and started a straight dash up onto a small knoll to catch the middle road, marked "That Way" on the sign. "I hope this is the right one," she shouted at Cheshire in agitation as she ran, almost halfway up the hill when she finally got the incentive to be angry again. "Because by the time you tell me to change roads again, I'll be too far down the trail!"

"Oh, don't worry, you're going the right way. Or the left way, whatever you prefer." Cheshire chuckled as he floated in front of her in perfect pace as he laid back, his tail flicking. He floated above her and looked ahead, "Oh, dear, it appears the March Hare has already taken him into his home."

"Aw, damn..." the therapist mumbled breathlessly as she ran the path. "I barely got here, and I'm already up against someone. This is just splendid."

"It's not like he'll do anything to you," Cheshire commented, making himself invisible, but his grin still showing, "The March Hare is only getting revenge for things done a long time ago...not exactly your Hatter's fault, but we're all mad here so it doesn't really matter."

"Yes, yes, I know, I read the book, shut up!" she blathered as she ran. Right now, Illia could be best described as mad in both senses, and the look in her obsidian eyes wasn't denying the concept. "Besides, if everyone here is mad, how do I know that you're not lying and hiding something? Better yet, how do I know that the March Hare is seriously not going to try anything with me? Not that I mind. I can take care of myself, but that's beside the point."

"Because unlike everyone here, besides you and Jervis, I'm not imaginary. I'm very much real and so is my sister. We're here to try and help in any ways that we can. Now if you don't want nay more of my advice...very well then!" Cheshire hissed, vanishing out of sight, "Don't cry for me when you get stuck in the March Hare's wicked maze!"

Illia growled in aggravation, finally bursting out with all of the anger she could muster at the moment. "Stupid fucking cat! I KNOW where you LIVE!" She continued running down the path. "I cry for no one…" A sigh fell out of her as she hurried on. "Oh well...I don't need him anyways."

Jervis was helplessly dragged along inside a room that he could hardly see in. Cat floated by his side, her bright eyes giving the only source of light to let him now she was still there. The March Hare thought little of her and stopped by a whole in the ground that gave visual of dancing flames. Jervis didn't quite remember this in his dreams before. "What is that?" he asked.

The March Hare's mechanical ears twitched and he chortled, "Beats me, I know nothing of my own home except the chamber. And you know all about that."

Jervis gave him a defiant glare and tried to get out of the binds he was in. The chains only seemed to be getting tighter. "I'm not afraid of whatever you're going to do this time...none of this is real," he argued.

"Ah, but what if the world you 'wake up' to is the REAL dream? Thought you might like that, considering you once loved Wonderland and all."

"This isn't Wonderland! It's HELL!"

Bits of the conversation began randomly feeding into Illia's ears as she ran, breathlessly trying to make her way to Jervis before something bad happened to him. Having these ears weren't all bad. They were helpful, so long as they didn't twitch badly, which was often. "God, what are they doing in there?" she muttered, wincing at the sounds of mechanical grinds every now and again. "I've got to get him out of here..." Her hand jammed down into the pocket of her apron, her fingers falling upon something metal within- or rather TWO metal objects.

Withdrawing her hand with one object in clutch, she found that she was wielding a butcher knife, now gawking in amazement. "As if anything couldn't get more random around here..." Her eyes were fixed on the blade in a moment of insanity. She had to test the sharpness somehow...

"AHA!" She suddenly swiped the blade across her palm, black blood like ink welling into the slash and pouring out of it when she did so. "It's perfect!"

"Now...let's get this over with, shall we? Think of this as more of an 'upgrade'. It'll only hurt for a while, but sooner or later you won't feel a thing!" the March Hare stated, dragging the struggling Hatter into another room that the gears and clockwork were the loudest. Even drilling and the sound of working electric saws were heard. Jervis held in a scream, knowing it was pointless for no one was there to hear. He also noticed Cat was gone.

Right in front of Illia appeared Cat, her eyes wide, "Hurry! Hurry! The Hare is going to turn him into some sort of machine if you don't stop him! I can't do anything, but you can! Where is my brother? Isn't he supposed to be with you?"

"Yes, but he seems to think I'm a moron, so I got rid of him!" Illia huffed breathlessly, coming upon the place, dodging a huge hole in the ground where she could have twisted her ankle. "How's Jervis doing?!"

"He's still in one peace, if that's what your asking. For how much longer I haven't a clue!" Cat answered, leading the way.

Jervis was now being strapped down on a lab table, new bands holding him down. His eyes were wide as they stared up at the machinery above him. He gulped and shut his eyes tightly, "Wake up! WAKE UP!"

It wasn't two seconds later that Illia flew feet-first through a wall, landing in the small amount of rubble she had created. There was white dust flying from the destruction, and with a cough, she emerged from the pale cloud, a look of vengeance on her face. She was breathing heavily from having run harder than she had ever tired to run in her life. Her white hair was slung down over her eyes, her ears crooked and twitching again.

"Hands off!" She was staring directly at the March Hare, pulling the second metal object out of her pocket. Before anyone could really tell what it was, she flung it at the wall, where it stuck. When close enough, though, one could tell it was a crucifix. That would bring down the power a little bit, but it wasn't enough. "I still need the rest of my supplies..." Her eyes wandered to the knife in her hand. "But this'll have to do."

The March Hare laughed, "Look what we have here. An uninvited guest for tea!"

"Illia...but how?" Jervis stared at her, confused. The insane hare pulled a lever that caused Jervis to look up again as a saw began to lower slowly. Cat appeared in front of it and tried to lodge her claws into the gears to stop it, "Cat, don't!" Jervis shouted in alarm.

"No time to explain," Illia told Jervis, suddenly touching her hip to realize that her utility belt was back in place. She was completely shocked. "Now how did...never mind." She suddenly pulled a vial out, shaking it up and throwing it at the hare. "Jervis, turn your face away NOW!" she shouted as she crouched down bowing her head.

"What, why-" Jervis saw her throw something and he turned his head, keeping his eyes shut.

The half robotic March Hare let out a surprised scream as the vile exploded on him and gas surrounded it. Once it dissipated all was left was one robotic ear and half-melted robotic legs hoping about.

Cat was still trying to stop the saw from getting any closer to Jervis, "I can't...stop it!"

"Hold on!" Illia shouted in desperation as she pulled out another vial of substance, suddenly pouring it all over the blade of the dagger. Once she had, she drew back. "Cat, pull away quickly! I don't want you hit you!"

Cat quickly sprang off of the saw's gear work and vanished. Jervis noticed how close the blade was to him now and he held in a shout of panic and only watched, 'So...this is it...' he thought.

Illia closed one eye and drew back a little further, sticking the edge of her tongue out of the side of her mouth as she did so. She had positively no room for error here. 'You can do this...' she told herself in her head. 'You can.' She gulped and suddenly chucked the knife full-force, a stinging metallic ring echoing painfully as the blade wedged itself tightly betwixt the gears and immediately starting to rust everything over, nothing left after thirty seconds but the reddish-brown remains of toothed, tabbed iron.

The gears jerked and tried to work, but suddenly everything just started to fall apart. The saw stopped spinning and went flying from the pressure. It missed Jervis by a fraction- he let out a very, very thankful sigh and felt like passing out. Though that would be strange, being asleep already.

Cat and Cheshire appeared by both sides of him and began sawing off the binds with their sharp claws, but having slow progress.

Illia stood for a moment and watched the cats at their futile efforts to free Jervis. She wished that she was able to help them, but she had no other blade to use. All she had were more chemicals and a couple of guns. She couldn't help but notice, however, that in a dream, there was no logic. Maybe she could try something else. Walking over to where Jervis was strapped, she grabbed one of the binds and pulled it up, biting through it and watching it snap back like a rubber band.

"Well..." she pondered. "That's one way to do it."

Jervis lifted his hand and tried to tear off one of the other binds holding his other arm down and it finally snapped with the help of it already been gnawed through. "So...are you part of the dream or...?" he stared at Illia in confusion. "I don't know why I'd imagine you in that!"

Illia looked completely unamused. "I'm not part of the dream, believe me. I'm very much real, and I don't like what I'm wearing a bit more than the next guy would like it on him..." she stated, thinking about that for a second before adding, "Unless he was a very troubled and strange man. Nonetheless, are you alright?"

Jervis just stared at her strangely and snapped out of it, nodding his head, "Yeah. I'm in one peace...but how did you even get into my mind?" Cheshire rolled his eyes and continued snapping off the binds on the Hatter's feat and Jervis got off of the table, brushing himself off. "Killing the Hare won't change anything...it'll just come back then ext time I fall asleep."

"I never intended that killing the Hare would make it all end," Illia told him, thinking twice about retrieving her knife from the gears and turning around, starting back out of the place. "It'll take the complete defeat of this place." She smoothed out her lolita dress and kept walking. "Which is something I'm more than prepare to arrange..."

"How are you able to do that?" Jervis asked as he caught up with her, the two cats following behind. "I'll ask again, how did you get into my mind? Do you have some sort of mind control?"

"No," replied Illia, "I could if I wanted to, but no. Absolutely zero mind control was used." She kept walking. "I got into your mind by a means all my own that is indisclosable, and it will stay that way." She was very sure he wouldn't want to hear about how she had managed to crawl through his ear canal anyways.

Jervis sighed and gave up asking anymore questions. He had a few more he wanted to ask, but he decided it was best to be quiet for now. Cheshire walked ahead, beside Illia, "So where exactly are we going, Miss Illia?" he droned.

"We're heading to the heart of this place...indirectly or directly as it may be," the therapist replied as she walked, an aggressive look in her eyes as she spoke, "We're going to take it out."

"If your dream is in accordance to the book or anything else Wonderland-related," Illia stated as she walked. "Then the heart of this place would be the Red Queen. Or whatever is similar."

Jervis stopped, eyes wide, "You plan on going against the Red Queen? Even I'm not mad enough to do that!"

"My methods may be completely unorthodox," replied the therapist as she continued on, knowing that he had stopped and paying no mind, "But that doesn't mean that I have to be." She looked at her arsenal collection on her belt as she walked. "However, whether or not you wish to recover lies in your willingness to comply with my unorthodox mannerisms."

"So be it..." Jervis sighed, rubbing his temples and continuing after her. "I just surely hope you know what you are doing."

"Trust me!" Illia called over her shoulder as she walked at the head of the group, suddenly losing her confident expression as soon as her head was turned again and muttering to herself, "I have no idea what I'm doing."


End file.
